Stormy Days
by DrSmithAndJones
Summary: A moment in the life of River Tam. Quick character study of the crew of Serenity.


River isn't here right now. Please leave a message after the beep.

 _Beep._

Some days are better than others. Some days, she's clever and witty and she feels like who she used to be, and it's good but it also hurts because she knows she's not actually like this anymore.

Some days everything's shattered glass stabbing her and everyone's thoughts are everywhere and she doesn't know Simon from Jayne from Kaylee.

Some days she's between, where she knows just enough of both. Where she's what she knows they were looking for when she was forged from what used to be River. Some days, no power in the verse can stop her.

Of course, she's never comfortable. It's never right. But she knows that some days are better, and some days are worse.

Today's one of the worse days. She's still coherent, which is a blessing and a curse because it's not as bad but she'll remember it. She'd probably rate the mental noise at about the level of a rock concert. She saw some vids of one… somewhere. She's not sure where, and prodding just makes it sore. When Simon finds her curled up in the smuggler's hold, sketching quantum mechanical equations, he knows what it means.

"Mei Mei…" he sighs, cradling her like a doll. She never liked dolls. Too breakable. Not real. Empty. She wonders if she's empty, a shell filled with the minds of others. She can feel his concern, his protectiveness, radiating out like a sun, which is nice, but you need to remember to worry about sunburn.

She wishes there was sunscreen for her brain. For the bad days. Of course, she kind of wishes that there weren't good days or bad days, that she was who she used to be so her brother could be what he needed to be and the crew would have less people gunning for them than they do with her onboard. But time travel is impossible. More data would be required for her to create a functional machine, and even if she could, there were always paradoxes to worry about. And spoilers. She likes the sound of that. "Spoilers," she croons to no one in particular. "Mustn't look ahead, don't read the ending first. It ruins the story."

"Its fine, River, no one's reading ahead," Simon says. She can tell he's worried about her peeking ahead again. She's not, and she doesn't do it on purpose, it just happens, like a heart attack or seizure. Cutting off her temporal circulation, making her gasp for air like a fish out of water. Or a ship out of space. Serenity is complete when she's sailing the systems, an organism flying through the aether, nine organs. River's pretty sure she's the appendix. Reservoir of helpful data, but prone to cause trouble if aggravated. If proven to be harmful, remove immediately to ensure the survival of the organism. She doesn't want to be removed, though. She's a part of the organism. She can help it run if she's careful.

She's back in her room by now. Simon asks if she wants him to stay, but she thinks she wants to be alone. She closes her eyes, waiting for him to leave. When he does, she lies down, her mind fluttering. She tries to focus on the crew.

Simon's closest, his mind familiar. He's all smooth steel and cool light, a keen scalpel and a warm hug. Comforting, but she wants to clear everything, wants to be blank, maybe even just be River today, so she moves on to the next person.

Jayne's polishing his guns. He's a rock, blunt, direct, simple, but able to get things done. He's flint, with surprisingly keen edges, his intelligence masked even to himself on occasion. He's humming a song to himself, a cheerful bar song with a melancholy tone in his head. River sings along with the last line, "…the man they call Jayne…"

Kaylee's in the engine room, her mind an engine in and of itself. Thrumming smoothly and steadily, with the smell of spun sugar wafting from it instead of smoke and oil. She's the heart of the ship, the ballast. Everyone loves Kaylee. River grins. Especially Simon. She wishes he would tell Kaylee, because she knows they both like each other. River doesn't quite trust herself for matchmaking, though. She's too distracted most of the time. But Kaylee doesn't mind that.

Book… she's not sure about him. His mind is a labyrinth, with hidden depths and deceptive turns. But for all of that, he's still got a layer of solidity to him, his faith. Her brain says she can't trust him, says he's a liar, says _danger danger danger._ Her instinct says he's good, though, and River thinks that maybe here her primal monkey brain may be worth more than her shattered telescope brain.

Inara is a sheet of silk, sheer and soft. She's rich and welcoming, far more exotic than the rest of the crew, but still an integral part of it. If she were an organ, she'd be the eyes. If River didn't know- couldn't tell- she'd think maybe Inara could see inside squishy people better than River can. Maybe she does, just different than River.

Wash is the ship itself, steel and energy serving as an extension of his own body. He flies like Serenity is his wings, buoyant in and of himself. He'll let River play with his dinosaurs sometimes. The dinosaurs are crew too. Helped Mal trap Alliance soldiers in the war. Or maybe they're just in River's head. It's okay, though.

Zoe is the feet, the intuition. She keeps the others grounded, is the foundation on which the others can build. She is a contrast to so many on the ship, which means she can work well with all of them. She and Wash are equal and opposite, two Newtonian forces pushing against each other and turning the push into an embrace.

Mal is Mal. He's a gun and a brown coat, a weapon and a shield, a soldier to his core. He's broken, but really everyone is. He's found glue to keep himself together, tying himself up with people who need healing, all of them merging into a team, a symbiosis. Biological relationship that benefits both mutual parties. Definitely symbiosis.

They are all part of one mind, a gestalt body. Pieces that make up Serenity, the organism. Body, heart, spirit, each person is some part of Serenity, a sort of hive mind that thinks, _Help. Protect. Keep flying._

River relaxes, the storm pounding her head slowly abating. She knows that it's probably just the eye, a pocket of calm, but for now she can relax. For now, she's found Serenity.

And no one can take the sky from her.

 _End message_


End file.
